


Duhk Joc

by sksdwrld



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Bloodplay, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rimming, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:19:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter is sick of listening to Roman complain. He thinks he might know a way to shut him up. Shameless pwp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duhk Joc

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitty_fic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitty_fic/gifts).



"If you're bored, then you're boring." Peter quipped, tossing a smile over his shoulder at Roman who was sprawled in a chair behind him.

 

"Say that to me one more time you filthy gyp, and I'll show you how boring I am when I put my cigarette out on your throat." Roman threatened.

 

The hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood on end in near anticipation of the event. He shook his head and laughed softly. After a minute, he turned, looking at Roman out of the corner of his eye as he rubbed at a faint stain in the antique carpet. "I know a game we can play,"

 

"Games," Roman leaned forward and blew a cloud of smoke into Peter's face. "Are for children and dogs." 

 

Peter imagined Olivia might have once said the same thing to a much smaller, more endearing Roman. "Nothing childish about the Romani game I had in mind. Roman eased onto the floor beside Peter. Whenever Peter spoke of his people, Roman took interest. Which is exactly why Peter knew spinning mostly bullshit in with a little history was the perfect way to lure Roman in. "In the twenties and thirties, there was a civil war in Russia..."

 

"It was the U.S.S.R. then, you ignoramus."

 

"I knew that. I just didn't think you did. Anyway. Back then, a lot of the Romani didn't get involved, but some did. And the ones who chose to enlist as soldiers, they called themselves the Ruska Roma." Peter watched Roman silently mouth the words, rolling them around on his tongue. "The Ruska Roma wouldn't let just anyone into their ranks though. The guy had to prove himself first."

 

"Prove what?" Roman demanded.

 

"Prove that he had what it takes. Prove that he was tough. Prove he was a real, Romani man!" Peter thumped his chest with his fist for emphasis. 

 

Roman rolled his eyes. "I don't need your fucking...literary foreshadowing. Just tell me about this fucking gypsy game and I'll decide if I want to play or not."

 

"Fine." Peter held up his hands. "They call it Dukh Joc. It's a test of endurance."

 

Roman scoffed.

 

"Pain endurance, you unappreciative fuck. But of course you're right." He let his eyes make an accessing sweep over the Upir's lean frame, then waved his hand dismissively. "It's not the sort of thing you'd be good at. I mean, interested in."

 

Roman grabbed Peter's wrist in a vice. "Pain is nothing to me, asshole."

 

"Oh yeah?" Peter pulled the burned out cigarette stub from the corner of Roman's mouth and flicked it away from them. "Prove it."

 

On his feet in an instant, Roman towered over Peter. He glared down at him. "Let's do this. And when we're done, I'll show you how we prove we're men here in America."

 

Peter laughed and pushed himself up. "I'm not interested in a display of your virility, Godfrey." That was a lie. Peter had been waiting for Roman to put the move on him for weeks. But he was hoping this was just the thing to tickle Roman's fucked up fancy. "Give me your belt." He held out his hand.

 

"Why mine?"

 

"You want me to lay into you with mine?" He lifted his shirt, exposing a woven rattan belt patched with knotted twine. "May as well be a wet noodle."

 

Perfunctorily, Roman removed his belt and laid it in Peter's hand. "Should I take this off?" He was already unfastening the buttons on his shirt.

 

Peter licked his lips. "Take it all off."

 

Roman snorted. "If this is all just an elaborate scheme to get me naked..."

 

Peter let the belt fly. The buckle sailed into Roman's rib cage and he cried out. "What does it take to shut you up, Godfrey?"

 

"I'm bleeding, you fucker." Roman said, collecting the solitary bead that welled onto his finger. 

 

"That gonna be a problem?" Peter arched one eye brow. He knew it wasn't, didn't even need to see the tent in Roman's trousers to confirm.

 

Roman licked the blood off of his finger and shrugged. "Problem for you, maybe." He turned around and pushed his pants to the floor. He was all long lines and hard angles, except the curve of his ass. Peter couldn't look away if he wanted to. "Shi-it." Roman drawled.

 

Peter tore his eyes away from Roman's perfect ass, only to find the Upir smirking at him over his shoulder. "Like what you see, Rumancek?"

 

"Not on your life." He doubled the belt and stepped closer, swinging the leather down on Roman's left shoulder. This time, Roman flinched but didn't make a sound. Peter gave him five more lashes, then stopped, admiring the red welts that were rising out of Roman's pale flesh.

 

"That all you got?" Roman asked.

 

"Don't be a bitch, Godfrey, or i'll give you the buckle again," Peter threatened. 

 

Roman's body flexed strangely before he straightened. "Go ahead. Give me the buckle. I can take it. I can take whatever you're man enough to give me."

 

Peter's breath quickened. He wasn't sure how far Roman was going to let him take this, but it seemed like pretty far was the glaringly obvious answer. "Bend over that chair then. Hold on and don't let go." Peter widened his stance and took a few practice swings. Blistering Roman's ass hadn't been on his to-do list this morning when he woke up, but putting the petulant little rich boy in his place seemed like a damn good way to pass the time now. On his next swing, the belt buckle dug into the underside of Roman's plush ass. Roman howled. Peter didn't blame him, it would probably leave a nasty bruise.

 

"Fucking hell, Rumancek!"

 

"Had enough?"

 

"Hell no. Hit me again, and make it hurt this time." Roman taunted.

 

"You want a safeword, sweetheart?" Peter asked, just before bringing the buckle down between Roman's shoulders.

 

"Gah! You fucking bastard!" Roman ground his teeth together, then shook his head. "No. No fucking safeword. When I say stop, I mean stop. I won't say it til I mean it, I don't play that no means yes bullshit."

 

"That's because no one's ever told you no before, you spoiled little fuck." Peter switched back to the leather end of the belt and peppered Roman's thighs with lashes.

 

Roman arched like a cat in heat but didn't release his grip on the arm of the chair. "People tell me no all the time," he argued breathlessly. "I can be very persuasive, however."

 

"With your Jedi mind-meld?" Peter cracked him in the ribs a second time with the buckle. The skin was thinnest there and broke again beneath the pin.

 

"Shit. Am I bleeding?"

 

"Yeah." Peter ducked forward, smearing his thumb through the blood. He pressed it against Roman's lips and Roman sucked the digit inside, rolling his tongue over the ball just the way Peter would have wanted him to if it were his cock in there instead.

 

"Make me bleed, really bleed, Peter. Then use me like a fucking slip and slide. Get yourself all wet with my blood and let me fucking lick you clean," Roman begged, his pupils dilating as he spoke.

 

"You're a sick fuck, Godfrey," Peter said. The idea however, was not so unappealing as he let on.

 

"Says the man beating me with my own belt to alleviate a little boredom." Roman chuckled.

 

"Point." Peter agreed. There was a bloodlust in him that would not be denied. It was his animal instinct, his inner wolf. He wrapped one end of the belt around his fist to anchor it better. "You say stop, I stop. No questions asked." 

 

Roman nodded. "Do it."

 

Peter did it. Over and over he lashed until Roman's back was littered with red marks, bruises and abraisions. Blood trickled in thin lines down the abused flesh and was beginning to smear and splatter.

 

"Enough!" Roman's voice was muffled in the space between his arms, which at some point, he'd curled over his head. Peter dropped the belt instantly and went to Roman's side. Roman's eyes were wet but his face was dry as he lifted his head. "Get your clothes off too," Roman's voice was inexplicably hoarse. He'd hardly made a sound all the while.

 

Peter shoved his clothes away from himself in a haste, then draped himself over Roman's back, sliding slightly back and forth in the warm slick. "I could fuck you like this," he offered selfishly. "Make you hurt inside and out..."

 

Roman hissed and nodded once, letting his head fall back to the cushion of his arms. "Do it."

 

No one says 'no' to Roman Godfrey, but Peter pulled back slightly. "You got condoms?"

 

"I'm clean," Roman huffed impatiently. "Just stick your cock in me already."

 

"What about lube?"

 

"I'm already fucking bleeding like a stuck pig. What's a little more blood?"

 

"I don't want to hurt you," Peter said.

 

Roman laughed. "I thought you did want to hurt me, hence the game? Duhk joc?"

 

"I made that up," Peter said. "I just wanted to see how far you'd let me go, how much control you were willing to give me."

 

"All the way," Roman breathed. "Whatever you want, it's yours. Just fuck me already? And try to make it good."

 

"Lube then," Peter insisted.

 

"Third drawer down on the left sideboard." Roman acquiesced.

 

By the time Peter found it and returned, Roman had his eyes closed and three fingers buried inside himself. "Jesus, how'd you get in there so fast?"

 

Roman laughed. "Spit and blood is good as anything else...it's not a fucking fortress, you know?" The whole time, he never stopped working his fingers in and out.

 

Peter dropped the bottle of lube and fell on his knees, pulling Roman's pink-tinged fingers away from his loosened hole. Roman started to protest but a swipe of Peter's tongue had him cursing and arching up again.

 

"Jesus," Roman breathed after a few minutes.

 

"You like that? You like it when I eat your little pussy?" Peter wiped his face on his forearm then unceremoniously slid two fingers in then out of Roman's asshole. "Should I keep going or would you like me to fuck you?"

 

"Gonna make me beg for it? How many ways can I tell you to stick your fucking cock in me and ride me already?” Roman snapped.

 

“Say ‘please’,” Peter grinned.

 

“Fuck you,” Roman growled.

 

Peter pinched a particularly angry-looking purple welt.

 

“Ah! Fuck!”

 

“Say ‘please’,” Peter repeated.

 

“Please,” Roman growled, tossing an angry look over his shoulder. “Fucker.”

 

“My pleasure,” Peter slid into him with a grunt and began pushing in and out at a leisurely pace.

“You call that fucking?” Roman taunted and slipped a hand down to stroke himself. Peter let him. It made his job easier and he was feeling particularly lazy after the effort whipping Roman had taken.

 

Peter gave a particularly hard thrust. “You ever shut up, Godfrey?”

 

“Gag me the next time if it particularly bothers you, Rumancek.”

 

“What makes you think there’s gonna be a next time?” Peter quipped, picking up the pace.

 

“There is always a next time. Oh, shit, there!” Roman exclaimed.

 

“Here?” Peter shoved in at the same angle again.

 

Roman gasped, then hissed. “Yesssss...” As Peter pounded into him, Roman’s body tensed. Peter dragged his hand down the Upir’s back. It came up tacky with drying blood and Peter clamped it over Roman’s nose and mouth. He pulled Roman up against him, then bit into the fleshy part of his shoulder. Beneath him, Roman began to buck, then he cried out and went still. 

 

Peter fucked straight through Roman’s orgasm, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own. “God, fuck, yes!” He cried suddenly, and flooded the hot channel that gripped him with come.

 

As he caught his breath and, he noticed Roman was squirming beneath him. “Enough fucking cuddling, get off me.”

 

“You’re so warm and fuzzy though,” Peter joked as he pulled out and away. “Wanna clean me off?” He held his softening dick in front of Roman’s face.

 

Roman shoved him away. “Are you kidding me?” He staggered to his feet, hunching like an old man and clutching his side. “Christ. You fucking owe me. This really fucking hurts now. Can’t you just, like, bathe me with your blood and heal me or some shit?”

 

Peter gaped at him. “I’m a werewolf, you moron. I’m not Edward Fucking Cullen.”

 

“Oh, right, I forgot.” Roman grinned. and scrounged in his discarded clothes for a cigarette. “You fucking bit me, I thought maybe you were part-vampire too.”

 

“I was sick of fucking your sloppy ass.” Peter said. “I knew it was a sure fire way to get you off and shut you up long enough to finish.”

 

Roman laughed at him around his smoke. “Love you too, princess.” He eased gingerly into the chair that was still splattered with his own come, sucking in a breath as his weight settled onto his abused ass. “Gonna feel this for a week at least.”

 

“Good.” Peter grinned. “Make you think twice the next time you wanna tell me you’re bored.”

 

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll ever be bored again.” Roman took a pull on his cigarette and exhaled a plume of smoke. “See, I know this gypsy kid, he plays the best games.”


End file.
